


Patriots

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-22
Updated: 2002-08-22
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14792762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: This is an AT (Alternate Time) story set in 1775-6 or thereabouts.





	1. Patriots

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Extensive Notes:** Okay, so when I heard about MLP returning, I thought that's it. I'm done. I can't watch the show anymore, which means I certainly can't write fic for it. But then I read a post on SotU, (I think by Mojo) which basically said we can't control what the writer wants to write. That's the point of fic. 

Now I still have big issues with AS regarding the fact that he played me. And I don't like to be played. MLP isn't returning to drive a wedge between J/D. I think we have to come to grips with the fact that she is not a Plot Device. She is AS's intended love interest/angst interest for Josh. Now before you get all mad at me... let me explain (note my previous use of the word extensive). He intended Mandy to be Josh's love interest, but it didn't work for a bunch of reasons. The fans liked Josh and Donna, wanted more of Josh and Donna so AS went with it. Season two was about playing around with them and we shippers loved it. 

But I guess, he changed his mind. It's really the only explanation. I know I tried to look for hints and subtext this season but I find it hard to believe he can be writing subtext into the show when he's just finishing the script on the day of shooting. So I'm taking the relationship with J/D and A at face value. But I still think he cheated. I don't think it's fair to allude to something that's never going to happen. I also don't understand BW's comments about being deep down inside at the back of his brain stem or whatever in love with Donna. JM makes a similar comment in that WW book. If that's the characterization note that AS has given BW and JM then he needs to lead us in that direction. But if he wants Josh to be with Amy, how am I ever supposed to buy into a relationship (as if I ever could) when I've been told that the character is really in love with someone else? It's his total inconsistency with what he's written and said that is killing my interest in the show. 

But he's the writer and I guess he doesn't care about consistency. And truthfully as long as his show is in the top ten, he can do whatever the heck he wants. 

I've been trying to empathize a little. I've been trying to think what it would be like if The Show was actually a show and everyone in fandom loved the idea of Elliot and Janey as a couple and hated Eve. As a writer I would be like tough... they're mine and I'm going to write Elliot with Eve whether you like it or not. So maybe MLP is AS's way of saying tough. 

Anyhoo, I thought I was done telling their story because to me it seems AS is done telling their story, but then I thought damn it! (excuse my language) they are still one of the best relationship dynamics I've seen in a long time, and if he's not going to take advantage of that then I am. 

This is an AT (Alternate Time) story set in 1775-6 or thereabouts. Maybe not everyone's cup of tea. Really I have no idea how I'm going to do this, or if it will work but I've been reading Stephanie Laurens (one of my new favorite authors) and suddenly this story came to me. I'm not a historical writer at all but I thought it might be fun to play around with it in fic. Please forgive the creative license I'm about to take with actual historical figures, namely Josiah Bartlett, historical events, and any historical gaffs I might make. 

"You have references?" 

"Of course." The young woman sitting so straight in the chair across from his desk dug into the carpetbag pressed against her side next to her on the chair. She removed a piece of folded and sealed parchment and handed it to him. He noticed that her hand trembled and he thought she must really want the position. 

He broke the seal, studied the letter, and nodded. "Can you tell me why you left this position?" 

"Mr. Hyde-Smythe took another wife. I was no longer needed to care for his children." 

There was something else. Something more that she wasn't telling him. It was there in her eyes. "May I ask you something ... personal?" 

"Would it reflect on my getting the position if I said no?" 

"Yes." 

"Of course you can ask me anything you would like." 

Joshua smiled. She was nervous, and perhaps a little desperate, but she had grit. She would need it in her dealings with his daughter, Amanda "Why aren't you... what I mean to say is... why don't you ...How old are you Miss Moss." 

She stiffened and raised her chin slightly, but met his eyes. "Twenty- six." 

"In the colonies, young unmarried women are... rare." He was bungling this and worse, she knew it. "What I mean to say..." 

"You want to know why I'm not married," she stated. 

"Yes." Her hair was fastened in a tight knot on her head, hidden by a cap, but the wisps of hair that did escape about her face denoted the color of a bright sun. She was tall, unfashionably so perhaps, but her lean figure was pleasing to the eye. There was a sparkle in her blue eyes that lent itself to mischief. He recognized it because his daughter's eyes had the same quality. But all in all she was not difficult to look at. A woman her age, in New Hampshire where there were ten men to every woman, it was almost inconceivable that she should not be married with her own children rather than applying for a position as a governess. "I was betrothed," she admitted. 

"I'm sorry," Joshua said quickly. "Did you lose him?" 

"Yes." Not in the way, she suspected her employer believed, but she was no longer betrothed so it amounted to the same thing. 

"Where are you from, originally?" 

"New York, sir. I have a sister, married, still there. She offered to take me in, but if possible I prefer to make my own way. Do you understand?" She hoped he might. Because truthfully she was counting on his generosity of spirit. She wasn't from the area. She had no local contacts to recommend her. There was really no reason for him to trust her. "Yes. I do. I believe in independence more fervently that you can probably imagine, " he said somewhat distracted. "Would you like to meet my daughter?" 

She tried to hide the sudden rush of relief she experienced. Surely he wouldn't be introducing her to his daughter if she hadn't won the position. "I would like that very much." 

Joshua Lyman rose from behind his desk. He was of average height and build. His russet hair, his own, was tied in back with a scrap of leather. His coat and breeches were of the finest quality, and he wore the long boots of a farmer rather than the more fashionable shoes, all of which spoke to his success as both a farmer and a solicitor. Donna rose and followed a few steps behind him as he led the way from his study down the hall to the living room situated in the back of the house. "May I ask you a personal question, sir? How did you lose your wife?" 

"I lost Mandy to a fever when Amanda was very young. She barely remembers her. Her nurse has taken care of her for these last six years, but Finn is getting on in years. I want Amanda educated. I presume you know how to read and write." 

"Yes, sir. Actually quite well, sir," she said boldly. 

He turned at that answer and considered her. "Excellent." They stopped at the entrance to the living room. The fire burned steadily keeping the room warm and the child dressed in a simple white muslin dress played with cloth dolls. "Amanda, come meet someone." 

The little girl lifted her head and smile. Large dimples bracketed either side of her face. She popped up to do her father's bidding and curtseyed when she saw Donna. "My name is Amanda and I am six," she introduced herself. 

Donna sank down to her knees to face the girl, her skirts billowing about her. "My name is Miss Donna and I won't tell you how terribly old I am." 

The little girl giggled behind her hand. 

"And who is this?" she asked pointing to the rag doll in the girl's hand. 

"This is Miss Pimms. She is my very best friend. And she's very wise. She always knows precisely the right thing to say and do." 

"An admirable quality in a best friend to be sure." 

"Are you going to teach me to read? Daddy tries, but he gets awfully frustrated when I don't make the sounds right." 

Donna raised her face to her potential employer. He was smiling indulgently at his daughter, and it pleased her. A house filled with love was always a preferable place of employment. 

"I do not," he protested. "I simply don't understand why "th" is so difficult for you." He made the sound a few times. 

But when Amanda tried, Donna could immediately see the problem. Making the th sound was infinitely more difficult when one was missing two front teeth. 

"We'll work on it. I promise." Rising, she took the girl's hand in her own. "Now if you would be so kind, would you and Miss Pimms escort me to my room." Donna looked to the girl's father and waited for him to gainsay her. She was being rather bold by suggesting that she already had the position, but then she'd been rather bold to come all this way in the first place. He knew when he was being manipulated. Amanda did it often enough. But since he happened to be in agreement with her decision, he let it go. This time. "She'll have the room at the end of the hall, the one connected to yours, Poppet. I'll bring your bag along shortly." 

She couldn't suppress a radiant smile at the realization that she had just been hired. "You understand we haven't even discussed your wages," he pointed out wondering at the cause for such happiness. 

"I'm sure you will be fair, sir," she said confidently. 

So confidently, he decided to increase his original offer. He was of the opinion that faith should be rewarded. 

He watched his daughter lead her up the narrow staircase to the second floor of the house and found himself lingering on the sway of her hips underneath her skirts perhaps a bit to long. She was his child's governess for heaven's sake. He shook his head and dismissed all thoughts of her, and her somewhat mysterious past, from his mind. 

There was work to be done. His compatriots were meeting tomorrow night at the mill and they were expecting him to have news. That meant he would be making a visit to a neighbor tonight. 

He summoned his houseman, Dobbs, and returned to the study. He took a piece of parchment out from this desk and wrote a brief missive. "Take this to the Marquise La Font. Tell her to expect me this evening." 

"Yes, sir." 

He was about to return to his ledgers when he spotted the carpetbag. He had promised to bring it up and since he'd sent Dobbs off on an errand he was the likely candidate. He rose and lifted the bag, noting its weight. No doubt it was everything she owned. Her dress, while respectable, was several years old. That combined with her anticipation over getting the position led him to believe she wasn't a woman with means. 

He carried her bag up the stairs and immediately heard the sound of chatter coming from the bedroom at the far end of the hall. 

"And this is Mr. Snuggle, and this is his wife Mrs. Snuggle, and this is their son Pierre." 

He listened as his daughter introduced each of her stuffed rag friends to the new governess. He could only imagine she was exhausted; he wasn't sure how far she had traveled that day, but the anxiety of what awaited her no doubt contributed to her state. Still, she sat on the bed and said hello to each and every one of Amanda's toys. He'd made the right decision. He could feel it. He coughed once to announce his presence and immediately she rose from the bed. 

"I brought you your bag." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"You'll no doubt be hungry. Hill is the cook. If you ask her she'll prepare something for you. Dobbs is her husband and my houseman; they live in the carriage house next door. I've sent him off on an errand, but when he returns, he can show you about the property." 

"Thank you." 

He turned then stopped. "How long have you traveled to get here?" 

"Three days, sir. By coach. I traveled with an elderly couple coming to see their son." 

"Amanda, let Miss Donna rest. You can begin your lessons tomorrow." 

"Oh no, sir. I'm ready to begin right now. I'm not tired at all and quite capable of carrying out my duties. In fact I'm very capable." 

"And not one to downplay your skills, I see." 

She might have thought that he was reprimanding her, if she hadn't seen his lips twitch. She smiled and said very clearly, "No, sir." 

"Very well." 

He turned and left and she thought yes, very well indeed. 


	2. Patriots 2

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

"You're late." 

Joshua looked at the two men huddled around the fire inside the abandoned barn. He removed his cap and joined the circle. 

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was discussing appropriate works of literature with my daughter's governess. She has... unusual notions and is quite opinionated about them." 

Samuel turned to him. "You hired a governess?" 

"For Amanda, yes. You seem surprised." 

"I just assumed you would be marrying the Marquise soon. You won't need a governess then." 

"When or if I marry widow Le Font I can assure you Amanda will need a governess. The Marquise is a revolutionary not a mother." 

"Gentleman, we're here to discuss business," Tobias interrupted them. "You have information for us," he asked of Joshua. 

"Her informants in Boston say the Redcoats have become increasingly aggressive. They've quartered themselves in almost every influential home in the city, to keep tabs on the city's leaders no doubt." 

"I wonder how Adams feels about defending those bastards now," Samuel muttered under his breath. 

"He did the right thing," Tobias interjected. "What we're discussing, here today, in this abandoned barn, is not about abandoning the rule of law. It is about subscribing to it. Wholeheartedly." 

"He's right." The three gentlemen turned at the sound of the voice that had entered the barn. 

"Josiah. You came." Tobias stood first. "We weren't sure." 

"I want to state plainly that I don't believe in what you three are doing. Negotiation, not revolution is the key to our problem with the King." 

"Respectfully, Josiah, the time for negotiation is past," Joshua declared. "Our brothers in Boston are convinced that war is imminent." 

"Our brothers in Boston were certain war was imminent after the Stamp Act and that was almost ten years ago," he informed the younger men. He joined the circled and sat on an empty stump. 

"Things are different now," Joshua insisted. "And the time is right. We need to break all ties with our Mother, then illicit the help of the French immediately. Between our two nations we can..." 

"Joshua, we're not a nation yet. You're counting on thirteen colonies acting as one voice and I can tell you for certain that New Hampshirites don't agree with anyone. It's impossible." 

An honored gentleman, considered by many wise beyond his years, he'd seen enough of war and strife to not want to willingly enter in to another one. "Sir, what do you think is our best course of action," Samuel asked, relying in the older man's judgment completely. 

Josiah sighed. "They are talking about another Continental Congress." 

Josh groaned in frustration. "The first one got us nothing. What came of it, a decision to boycott? As if I needed to be told not to drink English tea." 

"Another Congress might help in determining the minds of the southern colonies," Tobias countered. "To date it's been New England that has suffered the bulk of his Majesty's injustices. We have no way of knowing how Virginia and the Carolinas will respond to talk of all out revolution unless we meet." 

"We have to at least consider other options, Joshua." This from Josiah, who more than any of the eager men in barn realized what the cost of at least one option would be. 

"We have no options!" he stated vehemently. "Adams knows it, Revere knows it. Why can't you see it?" 

"Josh," Samuel interjected. "Shouting certainly won't accomplish anything. Josiah is simply telling us we need to keep our heads about us. If we're going to do this, truly do this, then it cannot be done rashly. We're not only talking about breaking our ties with the King, we're talking about forming a nation. The responsibilities of that are... awesome." 

"I propose we meet back here next week," Tobias suggested. "And there is one more thing. It's about Mrs. Cregg..." 

This time all three men groaned in unison. 

Tobias grimaced. "She has informed me that she plans to expose our chapter of the Sons of Liberty unless she is given entrée." 

"Mr. Cregg, one would imagine, is only too happy to be six feet under these days," Josiah quipped. 

"Her position at the Gazette has been useful for distributing letters encouraging debate. She merely wants to feel included," Tobias told them. 

"Fine," Joshua relented. "Tell her about next week. But listen is all she will do." 

"If you believe that Joshua then your more fool than I give you credit for," Josiah told him. "Now I must go. And be careful friends. The coats are on patrol about the town tonight." 

He left first, then each waited an appropriate interval to leave just in case they should be spotted. 

It was well past midnight by the time Joshua rode up to his stables. Dobbs, as always was waiting for him. 

"You needn't have waited up," he said as he dismounted his horse. 

"It's no effort, sir. I was up and heard you coming. I'm not the only keeping late hours, either." He nodded his head in the direction of the house and Joshua could see that a candle was still burning in the living room. 

He made his way into the house and found the new governess in his chair next to the hearth, her feet curled up underneath her, a book in her hand. 

"You must have more strength than I to keep such late hours and still have presence of mind to deal with my daughter on the morrow." 

At the sound of his voice she startled and immediately leapt to her feet only to realize that she had lost her slippers at some point. Her feet instantly rebelled against the cold wood, but she kept her expression neutral. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I actually waited up on purpose. I wanted to apologize for speaking out of turn earlier this evening." 

"You were quite forceful." 

"It's a fault I know. Keeping my tongue behind my teeth is not always easy for me." 

Since it wasn't always easy for him, either, he smiled. "You spoke of the injustices against us by the Crown. I take it you are no Tory." 

"No, sir. My father believed in independence." 

"And he believed in discussing that with you?" Josh picked the other chair by the hearth. He could see that her feet were bare and knew that she wouldn't sit until he did. 

She settled in the chair across from him a little uncertain of her position. It wasn't customary for the man of the house to spend time discussing the politics of the day with his servants, but from the little she already knew of him, she had decided that Mr. Lyman wasn't a customary man at all. 

"He believed in discussing everything with me," she said in answer to his question. "I lost my mother at a young age. Like Amanda. When my sister married it was just me and my father. And well... he liked to talk and I liked to listen." 

"And what did he tell you." 

"That taxation without representation isn't fair. He believed the colonies were destined to be independent." 

"So you believe in war." 

"Oh no, sir." She shook her head and he could see more strands of blond escape from her cap. "I'm a woman. And we can't fight for what we believe so we have to think differently about solving certain problems." 

"That's not necessarily true," he told her thinking of the Marquise. In her own way, she was fighting for the cause, just not with a gun. 

"Perhaps. But I would like to believe that the situation could be handled peaceably through terms and conditions." 

Joshua snorted. "And what does your father think?" 

"My father is dead, sir." 

Joshua turned his head in her direction and saw the sadness overwhelm her. He too knew such sadness. His father had been his mentor and his greatest friend. 

"I'm sorry." 

"I am too," she whispered, but then seemed to shake off her melancholy. "I should go up now. I really just wanted to apologize." 

"There really is no need. I am passionate about my beliefs, so I could hardly fault you for being passionate for yours. It's just that I would prefer that Amanda not be exposed to the talk if at all possible." 

"May I ask why? She's a very bright girl. Very..." 

Joshua stared into the light of the fire. "I don't want to her to be afraid of war. She's lost one parent. I don't want her to fear losing another. It is as you said, she's very bright. She knows what talk of separation and independence means." 

"You believe that war is coming." 

"I do." 

"And would you fight, sir?" 

"I would," he told her gravely. "I must or all my passion would be for naught wouldn't it?" 

He glanced at her again and found her gaze somewhat disturbing. It was as if she was seeing more of him than he wished her to see. He broke away from her eyes and stood abruptly signaling an end to their conversation. 

"I will see you in the morning." 

She stood and smiled gently. "Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir." 

He watched as she took a candle from the table. The flicker of light cast shadows against the dark hallway. In seconds she was gone and oddly enough he felt a sense of loss. As if for a time he was connected to something and now he no longer was. 

Foolishness. 

He sat and once again stared at the fire. He was meeting with the widow again tomorrow and found himself hoping that she would have more news to report. News that would push them all in the direction he desperately wished they would go. 

She probably wouldn't be flattered to know that he cared more about her information than he did about her charms. But what the Marquise didn't know, wouldn't hurt her. 

His thoughts once more drifted to his new governess while he considered what she had told him about her father. He must have died recently, which is why she chose to seek employment. It made sense then that she must have lost her intended before she did her father. And he was filled with a sense of regret for her having lost two loves so close to one another. 

Perhaps that's why she chose to leave New York and come to New Hampshire. Sometimes running away seemed the best answer to avoiding pain. 

Vaguely, he wondered how she heard about this position, but his eyes were closing and the fire was warm, and he was asleep before he realized that there was no way she could have known of the job before she left New York. 


	3. Patriots 3

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

"I told you before what Samuel said is correct..." Joshua's voice trailed off as he sensed a presence in the doorway of the parlor. 

The men were gathered together drinking port after an informal dinner. The widow Le Font sat perched on a chaise at the other end of the room clearly engaging Mrs. Cregg in a debate about the role women will play in the revolution. 

He smiled, held his hand out and Amanda ran to his side clutching one arm around his leg while the other clutched Mrs. Pimms. 

Donna stood in the entrance way as unobtrusively as she could. "She wanted to say goodnight," she told her employer quietly. "And I think she hoped to swipe another cake." 

Amanda giggled against her father's leg and looked up to meet his eyes. "Perhaps just one more?" 

He smiled indulgently and released her so she could make her way to the table in front of the ladies where the tray of cakes sat. 

"She's been practically out of her skin all day," he murmured to Donna while they both watched the little girl curtsy appropriately before the two widows. 

"She was excited to be part of the party, I think." 

He faced her directly. "Once you've tucked her in you should join us." 

"Sir, I couldn't." 

"We're discussing politics, of course, revolution. You can share your ideas on compromise." 

"I fear my ideas on compromise would not be looked on kindly." 

Joshua surveyed the room of guests, his lips twitching. "No, they probably wouldn't. But they would appreciate your passion." 

"Ah, darling, she is precious!" the Marquise shouted from across the room in reference to Amanda. She stood and lifted her dress in a fluid movement making her way to where the two stood. Amanda followed with a cake in each hand. 

Donna tried not to be shocked by the amount of décolletage the Marquise's dress revealed. After all, the widow was French and the very height of fashion. No doubt her own simple muslin dress and matching cap seemed ridiculous to her. 

"Donna, I don't know that I have introduced you. Miss Moss, the Marquise Le Font." 

"Enchantee," the Marquise purred. 

Donna curtseyed. "Ma'am. If you'll excuse me, if I don't take Amanda to bed now, I'll never get her to sleep." 

"I'll sleep," Amanda insisted. "If you promise to tell me a story." 

"One story, then to bed," she said firmly. 

"One nice story," Joshua insisted. "No fervor." 

Donna smiled at him. "I promise. It will be all princesses and gallant knights. Come, poppet. Say goodnight." 

Again the little girl curtseyed. "Goodnight." 

Donna bowed her head and grasped the girl's sticky hand in her own. She growled playfully as she escorted her off. "I think I might have to eat this hand." 

"No, you can't! I need my hand," she giggled. 

"Ah but you should have thought of that before you covered it with icing." 

Josh watched the two make their way up steps and out of view. 

"She is precious," Aimee repeated. 

"I know." 

"I meant the governess." 

He turned to the woman, his face a picture of innocence. He hoped. "She's my governess," he explained in response to the subtle accusation in his lover's voice. 

The Marquise nodded, but he could see the doubt in her eyes. She turned and threw her attentions toward Samuel who invariably got skittish whenever the Marquise chose him to flirt with. 

It didn't bother him. The Marquise was a woman who understood her own power. She wielded it often in any situation where it applied. He couldn't fault her. Didn't he use her for his own ends? In the beginning there was passion between them. A passion of ideals and beliefs that transcended into the physical realm. 

Now it seemed as if their beliefs were all they still shared. Samuel asked when he could expect to hear the nuptial bells, but it had become progressively clearer to him that no such marriage would take place. 

Still, he would not be the one to break the liaison. The Marquise was a woman with influence in Boston, and beyond that she had important contacts within the British ranks that he would continue to need access to. If she found a new lover, he could bow out graciously. However, if he were to... stray, he didn't imagine that she would take the news well. 

"Come, Joshua," she calling to him over her shoulder. "Join the conversation. Samuel needs a bit of your ... firmness." 

"I don't," he protested. "I am quite firm." 

"Please, Samuel," she whispered in his ear but loud enough for the small group to hear. "There are ladies about." 

There was laughter at the younger man's expense and more port to be had. Joshua watched each of his guests leave until only the Marquise remained. 

She stopped in the foyer before reaching the door. "I can stay... for a time. My coachman will assume we're ... debating." 

Joshua smiled and moved closer to her lifting her hand to his lips. "I'm sure he would quickly realize that no man caught in your bewitching presence could maintain the presence of mind to ...debate for long." 

Her lips in a full pout she moved closer to him, circling her arms about his waist and brushing her almost bare breasts against his chest. "Mais mon cher... I want you." 

Taking a decided step back, he lifted and kissed her other hand, this time inside her wrist, his nose wrinkling slightly at the over done scent he found there. "Another time. Another place." 

Accepting temporary defeat, she bowed her head and turned for the door. He waited a beat until she left then returned to the parlor for a final private drink before retiring for the night. 

Carefully, Donna let out her breath from her position in the stairwell. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She'd simply wanted to take a walk in the cool night air and had gotten caught on the stairs. If she'd retreated, it was a sure thing that they both would have heard the creak of the stairs and placed them all in a very embarrassing position. 

But he'd retired to the parlor and the Marquise was gone. She was clear to make her nightly escape. As silently as she could she tread down the stairs to the foyer. Slowly, she opened the door and once through it closed it behind her as slowly as she had opened it. 

The night air was refreshing. The moon was full and provided more than enough light for her nightly vigil. Sleep sometimes eluded her and it seemed the only way to settle herself was to walk off her extra energy. 

She made her way around the fenced acre loving the feel of her muscles working to carry her over the terrain. As she approached the house again, she could see the glow of a pipe by the doorway. Her steps slowed. It wasn't seemly for a woman to be wandering the fields at night. In fact her actions could be interpreted as that of a witch. 

As soon as she was within earshot of him, she began her explanations. "I was simply tired, sir. And the room was over warm, and I thought a walk might help me to sleep. I promise, sir, that's all I was ..." 

"Relax, Miss Moss. I'm not accusing you of nocturnal mischief. I heard the door close and came to investigate. I saw you walk the perimeter." 

Her relief was palpable. 

"I would caution you though. This neighborhood is quiet enough, but you never know what treachery lies in the dark." 

"I am very careful sir, not to go too far." 

He studied her for a moment. "Why can't you sleep?" 

"Beg pardon, sir?" 

He knew she heard the question well enough. "Why do you need to walk so late at night?" 

"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I said I had a great deal on my mind. Women's minds are often thought to be filled only with needle point and gossip." 

"Not the women I know." 

"I suppose that's true. Mrs. Cregg is very ..." 

"Opinionated?" 

"I was going to say outspoken," Donna corrected him. "I enjoyed our conversation the other day very much." 

"Mrs. Cregg is a wit. And a talented writer. Her work on the Gazette has been very important to our cause." 

"Does she worry about the danger involved? The Redcoats have been known to sack printing houses. Without a husband to protect her..." 

"Mrs. Cregg is remarkably skilled with a revolver. I wouldn't worry over much about her." 

Donna nodded. "You are all so different here," she blurted out. 

Josh smiled at this. "How so?" 

"In New York, things were so much more formal. Every action was scrutinized. Every step out of line was spoken about ad nauseam. A person couldn't breathe or think or do what she truly wanted to do with her life. If her actions didn't subscribe to the norm than she was considered odd. Here Mrs. Cregg, and the Marquise are revolutionaries. Women of action." 

She breathed deeply after her speech and realized that once again she had let her mouth runaway on her. 

"Who did you run from Donna?" 

"I don't..." 

"Who?" he asked in a tone that demanded an honest answer. 

She remained silent. 

"Your betrothed didn't die did he?" 

"I never said..." 

"You said he was lost to you. You knew how I would interpret that." 

She did. "Are you going to send me back?" 

"Are people worried about you? Your family?" 

"My sister knows where I am. I wrote to her to tell her I was safe, employed. As for him, he knows why I left him." 

"Why did you leave him?" 

"I did not love him," she said simply. 

"Love is not considered the most important requirement for matrimony." 

"It should be." 

"Affections can wane. And grow. A hasty decision made now can affect your whole life." 

"My decision wasn't hasty. Are you going to send me back?" 

He took a puff of his pipe and realized at once that the proper course of action would be to learn the name of her betrothed and write to him. But as she pointed out, here in New Hampshire, things weren't always proper. 

"No," he said quietly. 

"Thank you, sir." She turned to leave him and return to the house. 

"And Donna, you should call me Joshua." 

"Sir, I couldn't. It's not..." 

"Proper. I know. But here at night, under the moon, propriety seems like a silly thing. I'm not sending you back. And you should call me Joshua." 

"Then goodnight... Joshua." 

"Goodnight Donna." 


	4. Patriots 4

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

"Blast!" Joshua tossed his pen across the desk. He hated numbers. They were his secret nemesis. More often than not the damn things didn't add up and it always resulted in a headache. 

But ledgers weren't something to be ignored. Especially in these difficult times. War was imminent and when it happened money would be even tighter. He would need to see to Amanda's well being while he was away as well as her future in case the unthinkable happened. 

It was times like these he missed having family to rely on. He'd lost his parents, his mother most recently, and his sister at a young age. Then his wife. There was Mandy's family, but he'd lost touch over the years as they were still in Massachusetts. Her grandmother wrote a letter once a year during the Christmas season, but that was it. 

It was something he was going to have to address prior to leaving. That was an absolute necessity. The widow would want nothing to do with her. That she wasn't even a consideration said more than his desire for her ever had. Mrs. Cregg would no doubt raise her in pants or some such nonsense and teach her how to fire a revolver. Certainly not the sort of lessons he wanted Amanda exposed to. 

Donna would love her. 

He sighed. Thinking of her as Donna was a mistake. She was his governess, a servant, certainly not the person to whom he could bequeath this estate and only child. 

From here on out he was going to have to modify his behavior towards her. Lately, they had fallen into a pattern of sharing their nightly vigils together. They walked the fence line, talking politics, talking about the farm, talking about Amanda. She was exceedingly well read and well educated although she'd had no formal education. 

She teased him and told him that someday if Harvard started admitting women, she would be the first one to attend. 

How ridiculous, he thought. A woman at Harvard. 

No, their nightly walks would have to stop. It's just that there was a comfort that he found there that he'd never had with another woman. Women, in his mind, were to be wooed and cosseted. Sometimes they spiked his passion, and challenged his positions. Sometimes they made him laugh. Never before had one woman done all three. 

He shook his head to forcibly eradicate such thoughts. They were foolishness at a time when every decision, every action was critical. Here he was considering war in one thought, and love in another. There was no room in his brain for both. 

Even he knew that. 

Staring down at the pages in front of him, he groaned. And groaned again. It wasn't a pretty sight, but the truth of the matter was that he had a little baby in him. 

A gentle knock on his study door stopped his third groan. "Come in." 

Slowly, almost cautiously, Donna poked her head around the corner. Her face seemed relieved when she spotted him sitting behind his desk. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought I heard groaning. I thought you might be in pain." 

He smiled at that. "I am in pain. Numbers ... hurt me." 

She smiled back gently and walked over to pick up his quill. She placed it on his desk and peeked at the treacherous numbers in question. "You know, I was always quite good at summing. And that's all that you are doing is it not?" 

"And subtracting!" Less she think that a man of his mental acumen would be felled by mere summing. 

She moved around the desk and stood patiently beside him. He considered her offer silently, then stood, pulled down a bit on his coat and stepped aside, graciously bowing to the chair he'd just departed. 

"Where's Amanda?" 

"She's napping. We went on a picnic today and she ended up chasing the some bunnies around a field. She was exhausted when I brought her home." 

"For late March it's unseasonably warm." He craned his neck over her shoulder while he watched her methodically work the numbers adding the first column, then the second. 

"Really? I find the weather here to be similar to that of New York's. At least so far. I'm not sure what I was expecting. Snow until spring I think." 

"You can do that?" 

"Do what?" 

Her hand was still moving down the page as she totaled the numbers and spoke of snow. "Add and chatter at the same time?" he asked a bit annoyed. He needed absolute concentration. 

"A lady does not chatter," she informed him primly. 

"Now, now, don't pucker up on me. I'm merely jealous." 

"You needn't be jealous. Tis' a skill. I imagine you have many." 

"Very many," he said confidently. 

"For instance?" 

"For instance? That's an impudent question." 

"Is it? I'm sorry, sir. I thought by your reply that you were prepared to list a few." 

He sensed he was being teased, but damn it, the gauntlet had been thrown down. "I'm an excellent marksman, horseman, all right not so much a horseman, but still an excellent shot. I've read extensively, have argued law with the likes of John Adams and won, have argued politics with the likes of Samuel Adams and won, no easy task either one of them I assure you. I believe, although I will defer to your judgment, that I am an exceptional father..." 

"I'm not your daughter." 

"But you can see that she adores me. I must be doing something right." 

Donna nodded. "She does. What else?" 

"I need to list more? Not that I couldn't, but I feel a modicum of circumspection is due in this case." 

She couldn't prevent the giggle that escaped her lips. "Oh yes, sir. I can see you are being very circumspect." 

"Miss Moss, are you mocking me?" 

She stopped then and placed the quill down. It only just occurred to her how brash she was being. And with her employer as well. It's just that in the past few weeks they had become so... comfortable... with one another. However, just because she felt comfortable didn't mean that Joshua did. Or if he did, that he would be willing relinquish the rules that society dictated on what was or was not proper conversation. Young women were not permitted to mock their employers. And they most certainly were not supposed to refer to their employer by his first name even if only in their minds. 

"I'm not. I mean I shouldn't. My mouth, sir, sometimes it ... Oh my gosh." She stood then on shaky legs and thought only of escape. Blindly she turned right, when she should have turned left and bumped into him. 

He grabbed her arms to steady her as well as himself after the impact. "Donna, stop. It's okay. I was only teasing..." 

His voice trailed off when she lifted her head and he realized for the first how close she was. He could smell the lye she'd used on her hair and see the faint smattering of reckles about her nose caused by the early March sun. 

Their breaths merged, their smells mingled, their eyes wouldn't let go. Slowly, almost against his will he bent his head. Her lips were parted and his fit between them. He registered their softness and a hint of her taste before he felt her hands on his chest pushing him away. 

She stumbled and tripped over the chair landing unceremoniously on her behind. The two stared at each other in shock for a moment, unbelieving what had just happened. What might have just happened after that. 

Humiliated, her face on fire, she scrambled to gain her feet using the chair for leverage while her skirts billowed about her. 

"You have to know, I've never... I wouldn't..." he stammered leaning down to lift her up although she avoided his hand. "I don't know what... it was ... an accident," he finished lamely. What she must think of him. He was close to fifteen years her senior, involved for that matter with another woman, but worst he was her employer. She trusted him to treat her appropriately and he betrayed that trust. 

"I think I hear Amanda," she muttered and, as quickly as she could, bolted from the study. 

When she reached Amanda's room she was flushed and breathing heavily, her back against the door. It wasn't that she had never been kissed before. Benedict had kissed her twice. But she'd certainly never felt with him, what she'd just felt with Joshua. Her heart was bound to explode. 

"Donna, why is your face all red?" The little girl asked sleepily as she lifted herself off the bed. 

"I ... I suppose I got too much sun this morning. I'm sorry poppet. Did I wake you?" 

"No," Amanda murmured drowsily and fell back on the bed. "Miss. Pimms was already awake. But I think a few more minutes, maybe." 

Donna smiled, the sight of the sleeping girl doing wonders for her nerves. She heard a sudden slam of a door then Joshua calling for his horse. 

In a minute she heard the pounding of hoofs as he took off for parts unknown. Perhaps to go see the widow to remind himself with whom his feelings were already engaged. Perhaps to simply escape from her. 

There could be no doubt that the incident was her fault. She had provoked him. Teased him. Mocked him. Then to make matters worse she almost bowled over him. Gently, she touched her lips and recalled the feeling of his pressed against hers. 

They had been soft. Gentle. But knowing. 

She couldn't regret what happened. She couldn't repeat it, but she couldn't regret it. 

Joshua returned late that night. The smell of ale permeated him and he realized he would have to explain to Dobbs that it was more a result of a man spilling ale on him rather than drinking it. Dobbs frowned on drinking excessively and riding his horses late at night. 

Dobbs emerged from the gatehouse to meet him just as he dismounted and he could already hear him sniffing. "I'm sober, Dobbs. I swear it." 

Unfortunately, Joshua thought. Sober, he could still feel her lips. Sober, he still wanted her. 

He made his way into the house then to his study. Safely home he thought a glass of brandy might just put him over the edge. 

That's when he saw the quill lying across his ledger. It had been placed there. Walking around the desk, he studied the open book. The columns had all been added and totaled in a hand he now recognized. 

He fell back into the captain's chair and sighed. Clearly, she wasn't angry with him, something she had every right to be considering the liberties he'd taken. Otherwise, why finish the work? 

So what exactly did she feel? 

And it occurred to him that regardless of the impropriety of it, it was an answer that he simply had to have. 


	5. Patriots 5

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

Lying in bed Donna heard his horse gallop up to the house. She imagined he would have a few words with Dobbs first, then either enter the house and climb up the stairs on his way to bed or perhaps opt for his study and his pipe. It hadn't been hard to become accustomed to his habits. In fact it had been incredibly easy. Too easy. It meant she'd been paying too much attention to him, his comings and goings. To him. 

After hearing him enter the house, she held her breath. A minute later she realized she was still holding it and released it in a woosh. 

Idiot, she told herself. She'd almost made herself faint. 

He hadn't come upstairs, which meant he must be in his study. It was now or never. 

Pulling back the covers she slipped her feet into her slippers and donned her robbed over her cotton bed gown. She pushed her stray locks back into her nightcap and secured the ties of her robe at her throat. Quietly, she made her way down the stairs and stared for a moment at the closed door. 

She felt her heart pound against her chest and wondered if it was nerves or excitement. If she was honest with herself she would admit it was excitement. Why hadn't she been able to feel this for Benedict? Why couldn't she stop feeling this way for Joshua? She had no answer, but she did have a course of action. 

Taking a deep breath and sucking up her courage she knocked on the door, then entered. 

She saw him standing behind the desk, the quill in his hand as he stared down at the numbers. 

"I'm sure they're right," she blurted out. "I checked them three times." 

His eyes met hers and he smiled softly. "I'm sure they are. I wasn't questioning your mathematical skills, I was simply wondering why you did it. You should be angry with me." 

"I'm not angry. That's why I came downstairs. I know you thought what happened today was your fault..." 

"It was my fault. I kissed you." 

She winced a little and wished he hadn't used the word kissed. It made the memory too fresh and sharp in her mind. "You said it was an accident." 

He looked at her then, strangely, and she didn't know what he was thinking. 

"Go to bed, Donna." 

"No, I want to settle this. It's a question of my honor," she insisted. 

"I did not intend to dishonor you." 

"Of course you didn't. I wasn't talking about you dishonoring me, sir. I was talking about the dishonor I was bringing upon myself by being deceitful." 

She could see his brow furrow in confusion and waited for the inevitable question to come. 

"In what way were you deceitful?" 

She took a deep breath. "The kiss was just as much my fault as it was yours. I ... I wanted it to happen..." 

"Donna..." 

"No, let me finish. To leave you with the blame of it, as if you took advantage of me, is wrong. I ran from you because I was upset with myself. Upset that I let this happen. I never intended... I work for you, sir. I know what that means. I know what my position in your house means as far as society is concerned and most importantly, I know what the Marquise means to you." 

"You do not know what the Marquise means to me," he told her cryptically. 

Continuing as if she hadn't heard him, she said, "And knowing all these things, my only recourse is to give you my notice and find another place of employment." 

"You're not leaving." 

Again she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I thought perhaps a neighboring farm could use me. I am a capable cook if there are no other children about. That way I could stay close to Amanda. We've become very close. Actually, it will break my heart to leave her, but I feel that this is really the only..." 

"Donna." 

She stopped and took another breath. "Yes?" 

"Cease your prattling." 

She gasped at the abruptness of his tone. It really wasn't appropriate at all. 

"That's how much I care about society's dictates," he said in response to her gasp. "You're not leaving." 

"I can't stay. I won't stay and you can't force me, sir." 

"Is that what you told your betrothed?" He asked suddenly wanting to know more of her past and what had brought her to his farm. 

"Benedict was a cousin. Twice removed," she explained. "After my father died he just assumed... I tried to love him, but I couldn't. He kissed me once and it was awful," she added then gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. "I don't understand, sir. You make me say the most shocking things. I've never behaved like this before." 

He sighed and sat down in the captain's chair and wondered what they were going to do about this particular problem. It seemed there was only one solution, but he wasn't quite ready to broach the subject just yet. He wasn't ready for it, but more importantly she was definitely not ready to listen to him. 

But at the very least he could explain what was happening to her. He knew because it was what was happening to him too. "It's simply that you find yourself comfortable in my presence unlike other gentlemen of your previous acquaintance." 

"Yes," she whispered. 

"So you don't treat me as you would another gentleman, or for that matter another employer." 

"I hope not, sir." 

He laughed at that. "Go to bed Donna. We'll leave it with the acknowledgement that we are more than employer and employee. We are friends." 

"Friends," she nodded letting that information settle. "I've never had a man friend before. Unless you count my father, I suppose. He was a very good friend." 

Joshua wanted to say that their relationship would be like that, how she was with her father, but he knew it would be a lie. He didn't want to be her father. But there were other things that needed to be settled first. 

"Off with you then. I'll be leaving early tomorrow on an excursion, so you won't see me for a few days. I would be obliged if you continued your work on the ledger." 

"I would be happy to. It's quite easy for me, really." 

He grimaced a little and smiled. "At least you can pretend it's a little complicated." 

"Oh. Yes. I meant of course it shall take all my spare time, sir. The numbers can be very complex." 

"Excellent. We understand each other better already." 

Donna turned to leave feeling marginally better about the situation. Especially considering how she would not have to find other means of support. "Will you visit with Amanda before you go, sir?" 

"I'll let her know I'm leaving, yes." 

"She misses you when you're gone." 

"It can't be helped, I'm afraid. And the truth is, in the very near future, she'll more than likely have to do without my presence more often than not. I'm counting on you to be her friend too, Donna." 

"It's something you need not ask, sir. I adore her." 

Satisfied, he nodded. Yes, he thought, as he listened to her climb the steps to her room, there was a very easy solution to all of this. And as soon as he settled things with the Marquise he would see to it. 

"Your heart is not with me," Aimee purred while she stroked his chest, reaching for the buttons of his coat. 

He stilled her hands in his and lifted his head away from hers when she would have pressed another kiss against his lips. Irrationally, he had this fear that if she continued to kiss him, she would taste the governess on his lips. He still did. 

"I came here to talk." 

"Oui, first we love then we talk. It has always been this way." 

"Aimee, please," he said backing her away. 

She pulled her hands from his and stepped back, assessing him now with narrow eyes. "Something has changed, yes?" 

"No. Nothing has changed. It's just that my time is limited. You said in your note that you had important information. Something from one of your contacts perhaps?" 

"No. This piece of information comes from Colonel Reeves, my new lover." She had hoped for a reaction, but the glimmer of disgust that colored his expression had not been it. "You are offended?" 

"I am surprised, yes. Reeves is English after all." 

"Yes, he is. But I can hate the country and still make love with the man. Every time he tells me one of his precious secrets, every time he reveals a piece of information against his will, it fills me with an inexplicable joy. To give my body to obtain this information... means nothing. Only the cause matters." 

"If that is what you believe." 

Aimee walked across the room and picked up a decanter of port, which she poured for herself. Women in the colonies were not supposed to drink. But women in the colonies were not her. 

"What I believe?" she challenged him. "It's what you used to believe too. It is why we were destined to be together, because we shared the same passion for liberty and freedom. Where has your passion gone, mon ami? Perhaps it has been refocused on something or someone... a little closer to home. Oui?" 

This made him angry. "You dare accuse me of infidelity to you when you stand here and tell me of your newest English lover?" 

"How did you think I obtained this information," she spat at him. "You think these men walk about spilling their secrets at will. I am revolutionary. A soldier in a battle and this," she said indicating her body, "is my weapon. How dare you take the information I give you, then pass judgment on the manner in which I provide it." 

"I'm sorry. You are right," he said in attempt to mollify her. All he truly wanted to do was leave as quickly as possible. But he was a revolutionary too, and sometimes duty came before his wishes. "I don't mean to ... pass judgment. I have a meeting tomorrow night, with the Sons of Liberty. Any information you have will be useful." 

She sipped her port and stared at him. "You are so, how do you say, sanctimonious. I disgust you. Then you disgust me too." 

"The information, Aimee." 

"There is talk about troop movement. Toward Lexington. No dates, no times, just ... preparation." 

"Movement. Preparation. You mean battle preparation? The British aren't seriously thinking of attacking?" 

"He did not say attack. He said Lexington, he said troop movement, he said, "My sweet je t'adore." 

Joshua nodded tightly and bowed his head. "I must go now. I have other matters to attend to." 

It was a lie and they both knew it. 

"War is coming," she told him ominously. "You know this, I think. But do you truly understand what it means? What you will have to sacrifice to win your precious freedom?" 

"Goodnight, Aimee. Good-bye." 

He made his way to the door in quick steps trying to imagine what the British had planned for Lexington and why. He would tell his compatriots and let them decipher the information. And he would make arrangements for someone else to meet with Marquise to exchange information. 

He never wanted to see her again. 


	6. Patriots 6

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

"Lexington? Are you sure, Joshua?" Josiah asked, clearly astonished by the news that the British were actually thinking about marching on the colonies. 

"That's what she told me. Her informant is Reeves. I checked with some other sources. The man has a significant reputation... in battle at least. I have to believe the information is sound." 

"Did she say when?" Tobias asked. Too agitated to sit he paced back and forth across the hay covered barn floor. "How many?" 

"It's not as if she could give me specific battle plans." 

"I don't see how she could have given you the information she did," Samuel interjected. "For heaven's sake he's a colonel in the British forces. When would he have taken the time to pass along information..." 

The men in barn including the widow Cregg just looked at Samuel. 

"Oh. I see." He turned to Joshua. "I'm sorry." 

"I'm not," he answered quickly. "In the future, someone else will need to make contact with her, but for now we need to discuss how we're going to deal with this new information." 

"I could write an article for the gazette," Claudia Jean suggested. 

"Too bold," Josiah countered. "If this is the beginning of the end then I believe gentlemen... and lady, that we must let it begin." 

"Surely, we have to warn the others," Tobias noted. 

"Messengers," Joshua decided. "Discreet. To Revere and Adams. They'll know what to do." 

The group nodded in agreement, but a new tension gripped the room and was palpable as they came to terms with the imminent future. 

"You men in the barn! Hold!" 

The shout came from outside and each immediately turned to the barn door entrance. 

"Put down your weapons and come out at once with arms raised!" 

"The British," Samuel whispered. "But how?" 

"No time for that now, son." Josiah admonished. He turned to Joshua. 

Reading the older man's eyes he new what needed to be done. "You go. Take Claudia Jean through the tunnel. We'll cause a distraction." 

The reason they had chosen this particular abandoned barn for their meetings was twofold. One, it bordered a dense wood that a man could easily hide within for a time at night. Two, and more importantly, an underground tunnel had been built some time ago that ran to the east along the small creek and came up under a neighboring farm's barn. The tunnel was an almost fool proof escape route. 

"I'm not going down that tunnel without all of you," Josiah said, determined. 

"Sir, we don't have time to argue. They'll search the barn and find the tunnel if we all disappear. And of all us you are the least expendable. Revere and Adams will only trust you with the information we are providing. Go." 

He seemed to weigh the options, but quickly came to the same difficult decision. He grabbed Claudia's arm and headed for the back of the barn. "Be careful. All of you." 

Tobias and Samuel turned to Joshua. "What now?" Samuel asked pulling out his musket and checking to see that it was loaded. 

"Quickly," Joshua said racing toward the back of the barn where there was a window. "We take our horses. We ride, east, west and north. They'll have to split up to follow each of us. With luck and fate one or more of us will make it out." 

The two men followed him and each exited the barn through the window. The horses were tied out back, giving the men time to reach them before the British pursed. 

Joshua looked to the moon and saw a deep cloud pass over it. The pure blackness of night would hopefully make their escape almost invisible. When they each reached their horses, Joshua mounted first. 

"Circle back to my farm. If you can." 

He waited until the other two men were secure on their mounts and charged off. He could hear the shouts of the small group of soldiers behind as the sound of his horse's hoof beats gave his location away. He kept to the woods for cover, even though the footing was unsure and prayed his horse did not find hole in the ground. 

The branches of the trees he rode through scraped against his face, but he ignored the small lashes. He could hear the sound of the muskets firing in the distance, and he sent another silent prayer to his compatriots, wishing them speed. 

Then an explosion hit a tree he just passed and he realized that he had his own pursuers. That was fine he thought. The more that chased him, meant Bartlett's escape was all but guaranteed. Bartlett knew Revere personally. He would convince him that the information was accurate and make the necessary arrangements. When the British got to Lexington, the colonists would be forewarned. 

The sound of a musket fired again and this time he thought he might have felt it sing by his face. His breathing hitched and he could feel his horse tense underneath him, but he pushed his steed harder. 

He thought of his daughter, of her sweet face, and how if he had seen it for the last time two days ago, then at least he had seen her smiling. Donna had been standing behind her, stroking her hair and whispering silly things in her ear to make her not be sad about her father's departure. The two of them together became a picture in his mind and it eased his heart to know that if he was gone, Donna would care for his child. 

He changed direction suddenly and headed for the creek, and concentrated on losing his pursuers. Donna would care for his child, yes, but who would care for her? 

Another musket fired, and this time he thought the sound was terribly, horribly close. Later he would come to understand how odd it was that he never felt the shot. It wasn't until he looked down and saw the red wetness begin to pool against his coat, that he knew what had happened. But once the realization sunk in, his body seemed to give out. He lost his grip on his horse's reigns and felt himself falling. 

Water caught him, and dazedly, he understood that he was in creek. He felt himself drifting and it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. 

It would just be a matter of time, he thought. Just a matter of time before they found him, or before he bled to death. Just a matter of time... 

"Help me." 

"I have his feet." 

"Careful, with him." 

Joshua slowly came to awareness. He looked up and saw Tobias overhead and was sad. "They shot you too?" 

Tobias looked down at his friend and could see the madness in his eyes. "You are alive, Joshua. You fell into the creek and drifted down stream." 

It didn't make sense he thought. He had been shot. He must be dead. He felt himself being lifted and a sharp pain shot through his gut and ran up his spine. Surely, death should not hurt so much. 

He turned his head and saw Samuel. At his feet was Claudia Jean. "Claudia ... how?" 

"Quiet!" Tobias ordered. "They are still patrolling the area. We must get you back to your farm." 

Joshua decided that he could be quiet. In fact, he believed sleep was possible. Long endless sleep. 

"In here." 

"Careful. Don't jar him over much or you will start the bleeding again." 

"On the bed, quickly." 

He thought he heard people speaking. He knew he felt like he was floating. It was as if his body was somehow disconnected from his mind. Everything was hazy when he opened his eyes. There were shapes, but nothing truly definable. 

Then there was an angel. "Shh, shh," she crooned to him and he felt her hand on his brow. "You're safe now. Everything is going to be all right." 

And he believed it. 

Donna looked down at the lifeless man on the bed. "What happened?" 

The group looked to one another. Finally Tobias spoke up. "He was shot by a British soldier. We were meeting. Our meeting was discovered. We each rode off and Joshua... Joshua was shot." 

Donna moved back to the bed. She put a hand to his brow and felt the heat. 

"He fell into a stream. It saved his life. The cold water staunched the bleeding and the current drifted him out of reach from the soldiers. Samuel and I found him, then Claudia Jean arrived with a wagon." 

"As soon as I got out of the tunnel Josiah sent me back to my farm. I thought a woman riding about in a farm wagon would seem innocent enough," she explained. "Little did they know what I was looking for." 

"We need to clean the wound," Donna told them. 

"We should call for a surgeon," Samuel suggested. "Send Dobbs into town." 

"The nearest one is miles away and we don't have that long," Donna told them. "You have to trust me. My father was a surgeon in New York. I often helped him. We need to get the ball out of his body and clean the wound before infection sets in." 

Again the group looked at each other, then to Donna. 

Tobias nodded. And the rest seemed to follow his lead. 

Like a general Donna began issuing orders to the assembled group. "I'll need three knives. One to cut away his clothes and two of the smallest you can find," she said to Claudia Jean. "I will also need alcohol to clean and sterilize the wound. There is whiskey downstairs in the library, in the smaller cabinet behind his desk. And I will need boiling hot water and blankets. After Dobbs is done seeing to your horses tell him to post a sign out in front of the farm. Tell him to write smallpox on it. It will keep both neighbors and the British away." 

The three began to move to carry out the directions then stopped in their tracks at the presence of a little girl in the doorway. 

"Donna..." she said sleepily rubbing her eyes. "What is happening?" 

Donna rushed to the girl and pushed her back down the hall with a gentle hand at her back. "Everything is all right, poppet. You need to go back to sleep." 

"I can't find Mrs. Pimms," she whined in the manner of a child who knew something was wrong and was afraid but didn't know how to express it. 

"We'll find her. Come along." Donna escorted the child down the hall and back into her bed. Mrs. Pimms was under her pillow. Donna wrapped the doll in the girl's arm and kissed her on the head more urgently then the situation called for no doubt, but she could practically feel her blood pounding through her body. "I need you to be a good girl for me, Amanda. Stay in bed and get some rest." 

"I miss daddy," the girl whined softly. 

"He'll be home soon. You'll see. Now close your eyes and think pretty thoughts." 

"I'll think about daddy," the girl whispered, her eyes already closed. 

"You do that." Donna felt tears choke the back of her throat, but forced them at bay. This was no time for tears. There was too much work to be done. 

She left the girl's room and closed the door behind her. 

Making her way back down the narrow hall she re-entered Joshua's bedroom. One lantern was lit, but the light it gave off was barely enough to see by. "We'll need another light." 

Tobias had just finished cutting away Joshua's clothes. He tossed the bloody heap on the floor and quickly covered him with a sheet. "You should not be..." his voice trailed off at the ridiculousness of his statement. "I'm sorry. I'll get another lamp." 

Claudia Jean returned with a basin of hot water that she balanced carefully and Samuel followed in her wake with several blankets. Tobias was behind them with another lamp. 

Donna pulled down the sheet that covered him far enough to expose the wound that was just above his left hip. "I need you to turn him. Towards you." 

Both Samuel and Tobias pulled him onto to his side and Donna knelt down. She could see where the ball had almost passed through this body and was just beneath the skin of his back. "Move him onto his stomach. I'll take it out from the back." 

The men did as instructed and Donna turned to Claudia Jean. "Drop the knives in the water first. Then soak them in the alcohol. Then hand them to me." 

Claudia Jean followed the instructions and handed both knives to Donna. She watched the younger woman take a deep breath and marveled at how steady her hand was as she placed the knife against his skin. 

The room was deathly silent until the ping of the round ball was dropped into a dish. A collective woosh filled the room. 

When Donna poured the whiskey on to the wound Joshua moaned for the first time. His body jerked and Donna jumped back. Rattled, but determined she looked to Tobias and Samuel. "I need you to cut a sheet into strips for bandages." 

While they attended to that she and Claudia Jean turned Joshua on to his back and poured the whiskey over where the musket ball entered his body. Together they bathed the blood off of him with the hot water, then wrapped his wound tight with the bandages. 

"What do we do now," Samuel asked quietly. 

Donna looked down at her patient then to the others in the room. "We wait." 


	7. Patriots 7

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

"Amanda!" Joshua felt his body shaking with heat. The house, he thought, must be on fire. He had to get to Amanda. He had to get her out of the house before it burned. 

"Shhh, shh. She's all right. I sent her away with Mrs. Cregg for a time. Just until you're better." 

It was the angel speaking again. The very breath from her mouth seemed to cool him deep inside. "Please," he whispered. Please, keep talking. He was so hot. 

A cool cloth touched his brow and his face, but it wasn't enough. He needed to be cooled all over. He needed to be back in the creek. He shoved the sheet off his body and grabbed the angel's hand that held the cool cloth. He hated to be rough with the angel, for surely this would not earn him any points in heaven. But he couldn't help it. He pushed her hand against his chest and down below toward his left hip where he was certain the fire began. 

She resisted, but even in his weakened condition he was still stronger than an angel. He wondered if that made him a devil. 

Finally, she stopped fighting him, and he felt the cool cloth now moving in slow strokes over his entire body, over his chest, down his legs. From time to time she would take it away, but only for a moment and when it touched his body again it was always wetter and cooler. After a while the fire was banked and he could sleep. 

Donna stared down at his red face and dipped the cloth into the water again then brought it to his lips were she would squeeze some of the water into his mouth. Reflexively, he swallowed and because she knew how important it was for him to drink she repeated the action several times. 

She sat back and let the cool air blowing through the open window relax her and was once again grateful for the dip in temperature in the waning weeks of March. The water was frigid and helped to cool him, and the air in his bedchamber was cold enough to help fight his fever. 

It had been two days since she had removed the bullet. Two days since he'd spoken anything remotely coherent. Two days since his body had been wracked with fever. The only good news was that the wound itself seemed to be healing. There was no spreading redness or puffiness that would speak of infection. 

If his body could fight off the fever, she was sure he would be all right. 

The morning before Tobias told her that they had to return to their farms in order to avoid suspicion. There was no way the British could have identified them in the dark, but it was more important than ever that they not draw suspicion upon themselves. He wouldn't tell her why and she didn't ask. Her only concern was seeing to Joshua and making sure that he survived. 

That same morning she sent Amanda home with Mrs. Cregg. She didn't want the child to see the condition her father was in until she was sure that the condition would be changing for the better. 

After two days, she was a little less sure. 

She wet the cloth one more time and wrung it out placing it against his brow. She bent down to pull the sheet up over his body, and became annoyed when he kicked it away again. 

"You need to be covered," she chastised him, even though she knew he could not hear her. "I am not a married woman. I am not even a widow. You've compromised my reputation horribly. I do not think that Tobias or Samuel will ever look at me quite the same way again. They were both quite shocked by my behavior. Especially when I refused to leave the room while you slept." 

It had been two days and she still hadn't left him. Sleep came in fits between waiting. She ate only when she had to. Dobbs and Hill had offered to relieve her and sit with him, but she felt it was her duty to stay. After all she was the one who had taken a knife to him. 

Her father, she knew, would have done it better. Neater, cleaner. And he would have had a better answer for the fever other than cool compresses and bed baths. He was a man who always seemed to know all the answers. She hadn't realized how much she counted on his wisdom, until he was gone, and she was left with only her memories and his teachings. 

"What will you think when you learn that it was I who removed the musket ball from your body? Will you be shocked too?" 

The sound of his even breathing was her only answer. 

"I don't think so. You let me balance your ledgers after all. Which were in horrible condition I should tell you. Now that they are corrected though, I believe I can make the farm more profitable with a little more care for the animals." 

She glanced down at him and removed the now warm cloth. She couldn't say why but she found it comforting to speak to him, even if didn't respond to her. 

"Not that you need my council on matters of your farm. I know that of course. In New York, after I left Benedict I went to work for a family for a time and Mr. Hyde-Smith was always telling me that my only concern should be the children. One of his servants was stealing from him, and I tried to tell him, but he told me it was not my place. Then when Benedict came to the house ... looking for me... that's when I knew I needed to leave. Quit New York entirely. I'll never understand what it was that directed me north. To here. To you." 

He stirred then and she sat next to him on the bed. Sometimes when the cloth didn't work to ease him, it helped if she stroked his face with her hand. At least she told herself she was doing it to ease him, the fact that it eased her soul too was, to her mind, unimportant. 

Joshua rarely wore wig, but his hair was long enough to keep it tied in the back with a strip of leather. She dipped her hands into the thick russet pelt and thought how smooth and soft it seemed. Much like Amanda's. 

"You are strangely handsome, I think," she whispered to him in the dark room. "Not like other men. It must be your brow. It is large and it speaks of knowledge. But you are not arrogant." She smiled then. "At least not too arrogant. And you believe in your cause. In fact it is now apparent that you are willing to die for it. But not tonight Joshua Lyman." 

She was about to stand up and settle into the chair next to the bed to take up her nightly vigil when his hand reached out and grabbed her arm. "Stay," he whispered, and for a moment she feared he'd been awake through her ramblings. But his eyes were still closed. 

"All right," she said settling back on the bed. "For a little while longer." 

"You're not an angel." 

Donna jerked her head up and then reached to massage the cramp in her neck. It took her a moment to wonder what it was that had woken her up. Then she remembered that someone had spoken to her. 

Her eyes went to the bed and she saw his brown eyes greet her for the first time clear and alert, without a trace of fever. She got up and reached for his brow. It was warm against the back of her hand, but not hot as it had been. 

"You're awake." 

"Yes," he croaked out. His throat was parched and his body felt like the time he'd taken a bad spill off his horse. 

She helped him lift his head so he could drink from a cup. She only let him have a few sips before she took the water away. "You need to see if you're going to keep it down." 

"What?" 

"You were shot. By the Redcoats. That's all Tobias would tell me." 

He nodded weakly, but said nothing further about the matter. "Amanda?" 

"She's with Claudia Jean. I didn't want her to see you in the condition you were in, but I'll send for her now." 

"No. Wait. When I'm stronger." 

She nodded. "Not today, but tomorrow I will have Hill prepare some broth. You need to eat." 

He needed to use the chamber pot, but he would cut his tongue out before admitting that to her. 

She must have sensed his agitation, because she stood and went to the door. "I'll send Dobbs up, sir. He was very worried about you. He can ... help you with whatever you need." 

Joshua nodded and let his head fall back against the pillow. 

"You said I wasn't an angel," Donna said from the doorway. "What did you mean?" 

"I thought you were," he muttered weakly. 

"Oh." 

The next morning Donna looked over Hill's shoulder while she added some potatoes to the broth. "I don't think he'll be able to eat those yet." 

"I'll take them out when it comes time for pouring. They'll add starch to the broth and he needs it. You should rest for a while. I'll take this up to him and feed him." 

"No, I'll do it," she snapped. Then quickly felt guilty. "I'm sorry, it's just that..." 

"Yes, I understand, dear," the older woman crooned. "But you need to rest. I'll see to Mr. Lyman and when you wake up you can visit with him." 

It only made sense. She was exhausted and now that Joshua was awake and it seemed as if the fever was not going to return it really wasn't appropriate for her to stay with him un-chaperoned in his bed chamber. 

"I am a little tired," she admitted. Three days of no sleep, little food, and too much worry came crashing down on her. "I'll be in my room if he...anyone needs me." 

"Hill, where's Donna?" Joshua asked as soon as his cook entered the room. 

"She's resting, sir. I brought you some broth. And a letter came for you as well." The older woman placed the tray on the bed and picked up the soup and a spoon. She sat in the chair, Donna's chair, next to the bed and dipped the spoon in the broth. "Now, open up, sir. This will make you stronger." 

He simply glared at the woman like she had two heads. "I'm not Amanda, Hill. I do not need to be fed like a child. Leave the soup. Where is Donna?" 

"She's resting, sir." 

"Resting? What's the matter with her?" he asked, agitated that she wasn't here. 

The woman's expression hardened ever so slightly. "She's exhausted, sir. She hasn't slept since... well, since the incident." 

"Oh." Then it occurred to him that he had no idea how long ago that was. 

"Three days, sir," she answered his silent question. 

"Oh." 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some help with the soup, sir?" 

"No, thank you, Hill." 

The woman nodded and placed the bowl back on the tray on his bed and left the room. Joshua tried to ease himself into a sitting position and grimaced against the pain in his side. He tried to use arms to brace himself against his headboard but found himself impossibly weak. 

Stopping in his exertions to breathe, he wanted to rail against the injustice of being shot, but knew it was useless. He knew the risks when he'd joined the Sons. The possibility of discovery was always a threat. 

But why this time, this particular meeting? 

"You're not eating." 

Joshua looked up to find Donna in the doorway. He noted the dark circles under his eyes and felt guilty for being glad that she hadn't been able to rest after all. 

"You should be sleeping." 

"You should be eating," she said, ignoring him and bustling to the bed to retrieve the soup and the spoon. "Now, behave and open up." 

What seemed like a ridiculous thing for him to do with Hill, he did easily with Donna. Propping himself up slightly on the pillows, he allowed himself to be fed mouth after mouthful until he felt his stomach rebel. 

"That's enough," he muttered turning his head away. 

Satisfied, Donna returned the bowl to the tray and spotted the letter. "This is for you," she said picking up the folded and sealed pieces of parchment. 

He took it, but didn't open it right away. He recognized the seal. "You should sit. You look overtired." 

"I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I'll wait with you until you sleep, and then I'll try again. Should I send for Amanda now? I'm sure she's very anxious to see you." 

"Not just yet. I need to be sure that the British have no intentions of calling. I will not subject her to seeing her father hauled off in irons." 

"Of course. And Tobias and Samuel have called for you. I sent Dobbs to inform them that you were improving." 

"Improving," he muttered, feeling his body's energy begin to wane. "It doesn't feel like much of an improvement." 

"Give it time. Rest and time. You'll see. The fever worried me, but there was no infection in the wound so..." 

"How do you know that? How could have..." Suddenly, it occurred to him that he was bare as the day he was born underneath this sheet in his bedroom with a woman who was not his wife and most certainly not his lover. "Surely, you didn't..." 

She blushed, but turned her face away so he couldn't see it. After all there was nothing to be prudish about. She had saved his life. She stood and straightened her skirts. "Surely, I did. You needed care and my father was surgeon. Remember, I told you that before." 

His eyes widened and then focused on her. "You took the ball out." 

"I did." 

Then he smiled. "And what did Tobias say to this?" 

"Nothing, after I told him to stand aside." 

This made him laugh. "I wish I had been awake to see it." 

She returned his smile with a shy one of her own. "Better that you slept through it. I knew what to do, but I am not as skilled as my father." 

"Skilled enough if I'm still alive. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Now rest. I can see your eyes already getting sleepy." 

"You cannot possibly tell such a thing." 

"I can. Amanda's eyes droop just like yours. Like father, like daughter." 

Since it was true he chose not to argue. "And when you wake, you'll visit me?" he asked. 

"I will. I can read to you if you would like." 

"I would," he told her his voice dropping an octave. The intimacy of their expressions towards one another would have revealed them as more than employee and employer, even more than friends, had anyone witnessed it. 

But no one did. "Read your letter. I believe it's from the Marquise," Donna stated as she headed for the door. "I'm sure she's worried about you." 

Joshua waited until the door closed behind her and broke the seal. The note simply read: 

Sometimes you have to give information, to get information, cherie. 


	8. Patriots 8

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

  
"It was the Marquise. She gave them our location," Joshua told the two men who had come to visit as soon as Donna shut the door behind her. "She as much as admitted it to me in this note." 

Joshua tossed the missive towards them and flinched at the twinge in his side. He was getting better. He was even able to walk for brief spells during the day, but Donna had relegated him to his room for one more day. 

In truth, since he seemed to sleep in fits throughout the day, he was better off remaining close to his bed. It was a humbling thing to admit when a man lost some of his physical strength. But then again there were benefits to being coddled. Namely, the cool touch of Donna's palm on his brow, or soft scent of her hair as she leaned over him to plump his pillow. She most certainly gave a man a reason for lingering in bed. 

But then yesterday, Claudia Jean had brought Amanda to see him for the first. Just the sight of her bright face made him instantly want to return to health. One morning with his daughter had done more good for him than all of Hill's soup combined. Naturally, she wanted to stay. She had wrapped her arms around his neck in a grip that implied that she had no intention of letting go. Then Donna convinced her that Claudia Jean would be lonely without her, so she agreed to stay away for just a few more days. 

By tomorrow, however, both he and Donna felt that Amanda could return. Aimee may have given their meeting location away, but apparently, not their identities. 

"We know." 

"She sent you messages too? That harridan! That witch. If I believed in that sort of thing I would see her burned. I'll see her hanged though. She tried to tell me she had to give the information in order to get something, but ..." 

"Joshua," Tobias said solemnly, interrupting his friend's rant. 

The tone of his voice stopped Joshua. "What is it?" 

Samuel and Tobias looked to each other. 

"What is it?" Joshua asked again, this time with enough force to prompt an answer. 

"The Marquise is dead," Tobias said flatly. 

Joshua fell back into his pillows in shock. "How?" he managed to ask. 

"It was Reeves," Samuel said taking a chair next to the bed. "I have a contact at the camp where the soldiers are quartered. He found her with another man and assumed she was stepping out on him. He shot the man and strangled her." 

"Aimee never did believe in fidelity," Joshua muttered. 

"The man she was meeting with was one of our contacts," Samuel told him ruthlessly. "She was trying to send us a message and she died because of it." 

He didn't know what to feel. Shame, certainly. Shock. Disbelief. Perhaps even sadness. Aimee, regardless of her faults, believed in what she was doing and had placed the cause above all things. Including, it seemed, her life. 

He couldn't hate her for his pain. He simply couldn't. 

"I'm sorry, Samuel. I know you believed in her work." 

"She sacrificed her life," he said in defense of the dead. 

"She did." 

"And she almost sacrificed all of ours. Including Josiah's," Toby reminded them. "Let us not shed tears." 

"Do we know what information she was trying to pass along?" Joshua asked. 

"No. Only that she was trying to secure the confidence of Reeves, which is why she told him of our meeting," Samuel relayed. 

"So we'll have to go on the assumption that Lexington is still a target." 

"Yes," Tobias agreed. "Josiah has left for Boston already. He plans to meet with Revere there. We can only hope that Revere believes him and is ready to sound the alarm when the time comes." 

"Revere will believe him," Joshua assured the two men. "He has to." 

A gentle knock sounded on the door and Donna entered with a tray. "I'm sorry gentleman, but it's time for Joshua to eat and then rest." 

"I'm perfectly fine, Donna," Joshua told her not ready to send his friends off. 

"We have urgent matters to discuss," Tobias informed her. 

She nodded serenely and placed the tray down on the nightstand by his bed. "Then I'll just change his bandage and be on my way." 

"I don't need my bandage changed," Joshua said in a tone that reminded Donna very much of Amanda when she was cranky. 

"I have to change it or else infection might set in. You wouldn't want the wound to become infected would you? Because what would happen is that puss would begin to build inside the wound and then it would start to seep out." Donna turned to the two gentlemen who were already looking slightly squeamish. "And the smell of that puss can be most unsettling. It takes on the scent of rotting flesh and can often turn all the skin around the affected area a greenish purplish color..." 

"All right," Tobias cried, covering his mouth and nose with his hand to ward off against the nonexistent smell of rotting flesh. "We'll leave and return tomorrow." 

"If you both insist," Donna said calmly and watched as the two men fought for the opportunity to escape the room first. 

"You did that on purpose," Joshua accused her. 

She shrugged and looked decidedly innocent. "I'm not sure what you mean. Did what on purpose?" 

He smirked at her then and sat back in bed. "Don't try to fool me. I'm wise to you." 

She moved closer to him and waited while he pulled up his dressing gown. She averted her eyes, but not before she saw a significant amount of his thigh. She didn't know why she was blushing. She'd seen more of his body than that. In fact she had seen all of his body, which was an entirely improper thing for an unmarried on the shelf spinster to have seen. But when he was sick and she was caring for him it was easy. Less threatening. 

With him awake, it somehow seemed ... intimate. 

She turned back to the bed and saw that he managed to unveil his hip while keeping most other parts of his body covered with the blanket. 

"So you are wise to me, hmm. You make me sound treacherous." She moved her hand over his stomach to reach the end of the bandage. She could feel the soft matting of hair that covered him just above his belly button but attempted to ignore it. Their eyes met for a moment as she released the bandage with a tug, but she quickly averted her gaze. 

"Not treacherous. Just a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it without offending anyone." 

"It's a gift," she smiled. "Lift your hips please." 

He did as instructed and she was able to unravel the bandage from around his body. Gently she peeled back the thicker cloth positioned directly over where the ball entered his hip. 

"Turn on to your side." 

It was a familiar dance they performed as he moved in time with her directions so she could see both the entry and the exit wounds. She bent down next to his body and inspected both carefully. 

Joshua could feel her soft breath on the skin of his back and his body tightened perceptively. Then her fingers gently circled the skin around the stitches and this time he was required to stifle a groan. 

"Does it hurt?" she asked concerned. 

"No," he said tightly between clenched teeth. The last time she had changed his bandage had been effort. His body, feeling whole again, had come to life under her touch. It was as if it new her touch from some previous existence. It was familiar with the brush of her fingers, the feel of her palm. And it craved it. 

This go around was excruciating. Bolts of pleasure spiked through his body at different intervals removing the memory of any pain he might have felt at being shot and replacing it instead with memories of anticipation and desire. In a way it healed him. In a way it frustrated him. 

Because he couldn't tell her how he felt. She was caring for him. Above and beyond any duties that she had in this household, she took over as his surgeon, his nurse, ... his wife. But she wasn't his wife. She was still an innocent. 

He wondered what she thought of the situation they had both been forced into. He wondered what she would do if he... No. For her to see the evidence of his desire would embarrass him and shock her. 

So he tried to concentrate on the pain and what it had been like. The frigidness of the water he'd fallen into. The boredom of sitting about in bed all day waiting for his body to catch up with his mind. 

"It's healing," she finally declared clearly pleased with herself. "Very nicely. I don't think we'll need the padding. Just a light bandage to keep out any stray dust out." 

"No awful smelling puss?" he asked. 

"No," she said primly. "Lucky for you, isn't it. Turn back on your back now." 

He did, slowly, taking a bulk of the blanket with him to cover his lap. 

"Are you cold?" 

"No," he answered before he thought better of it. 

"Then would you like me to take away the extra blanket..." 

"No!" he shouted and gripped her hand before she removed it. "It's... I'm ... leave the blanket." 

"I'm sorry, sir" she said quickly wondering what triggered his mood. 

He sighed, mostly in self disgust. "You always revert to calling me sir when I yell. Do you realize that?" 

"Yes, sir. You yell quite frequently. Do you realize that?" 

He watched her face flush with her pique. He liked the way it changed the color of blue in her eyes from clear to smoldering. 

"You know I've never yelled at a servant before. I don't believe it's proper to yell at an employee." 

He heard her gasp and wondered if it was because she thought he was calling her a servant or because she thought he must be lying. 

"Then I suppose, sir, that you must not consider me an employee because you do yell, you have yelled, I have no doubt that you will continue to yell in the future, on quite a number of occasions!" 

"Exactly." 

She took a breath ready to fire back a response and in that moment understood what he was trying to tell her. Or at least what she thought he must be trying to tell her. 

"I have to finish with your bandage," she blurted out and hurried to do just that. She needed to think about what he was saying. Or what she believed he was trying to say. She needed to think about how they could possibly return to the role of master and servant, employer and employee, after everything that has happened to them. She needed to think about what came next. 

She tied off his bandage as efficiently as she could and straightened. "I brought you some soup. You should eat, then rest." 

She tried to leave but he captured her wrist in his hand once more. "Donna, please." 

Only he didn't know what he was asking. He brushed his thumb over the inside of her wrist and wondered at the translucency of her skin and wondered if she would be so white everywhere. 

"We need to talk," he told her gruffly. 

"Please, sir..." 

"Joshua," he corrected. 

"Please, Joshua. I need to ... I must...I know... but I can't...I don't know what's right," she finally admitted. 

"What's right is what's in your heart. Let that be your guide. Go now and think. Amanda is returning tomorrow and decisions need to be made." 

He released her and watched her practically flee the room. He dismissed his soup and lay back down and thought of the future. 

Suddenly, it was all very clear to him. 


	9. Patriots 9

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

The rain poured down against the windows as Donna stood staring out at the watery night. Thunder rattled in the distance as fields were illuminated with bursts of intermittent white. 

He said that what was in her heart was right. That seemed so easy. Did he know then what was in her heart? Did he want what she wanted? 

Donna doubted it. Men at times could be very simple in their needs. She had learned this from her father. He would often tease her that women's minds were far too complicated. But how could this not be complicated? To her, love seemed by far the most complicated thing of all. 

A bump from the other room disturbed her thoughts. Immediately, she feared the worst. What if Joshua fell out of bed? Perhaps the fever had gripped him again. Tossing a wrap around her arms she ran out of her room, down the narrow hall and burst into his room. 

He, too, was standing by the window watching the rain. The sound she heard must have been him moving the heavy chair closer to the window. 

He wore a heavy robe, but his feet were bare, and his hair was loose around his neck. He turned to her, clearly startled by her sudden entrance, but then he settled in the chair he'd pulled to the window. 

"Come sit with me," he said to her. 

"I only came in because I heard a noise." 

He nodded but said nothing. Instead he reached his hand out to her. He eased himself into the hard chair, but she could see he was nearly recovered now. Privately, she praised her skills and sent a silent thank you to her father for allowing her to serve as his nurse. 

Moving towards him, she sat on the edge of the chair's arm. It supported her weight while the two of them sat in silence for a time listening to the rain and each other's breaths. 

"I would like you to be my wife, Donna." 

She sighed. His statement didn't surprise her. But it did make her a little sad. "I know." 

He turned his head and looked up at her, obviously not expecting that as her answer. Then he saw her sadness and he felt a fist clench around his heart. Perhaps, he hadn't been expecting her to jump up and down with joy, but he hadn't thought she would look so distraught. 

His face colored with embarrassment. "I can see my proposal offends you." 

"It wasn't a proposal, sir. It didn't sound like you were asking me." 

"And that's why you are denying me?" he asked jerking out of the chair to stand before her so he could look down at her face rather than up at it. "Because you didn't like my phrasing of the question?" 

"I did not say that I would not accept your offer." 

"It would seem that you would rather accept an offer to walk the plank, more." 

She couldn't help but smile at his irritation. 

"Now you are laughing at me," he accused her, outraged. 

"I am not," she said reaching for his hand and clasping it between hers. So brazen a gesture seemed to settle him. 

"I thought... I was certain that you...had feelings... Oh for heaven's sake! I'm making a hash of this." 

She gazed up at him, her eyes clear as they met his. "I do have feelings, Joshua." 

"Then why..." 

"Why do you want to marry me?" 

This was easy for him to answer. "It solves all my problems. You know that war is coming. When that time comes I'll be forced to leave. I trust Amanda in your care. I trust my household in your care. And by marrying me this will give you the security you need..." 

She listened to him ramble on about the benefits of marriage, the practicality of this decision, and how marriage would make his life easier. To her it sounded very much like the first offer of marriage she received. Only this one hurt more because she cared more. 

When he was done he looked down at her face and saw that she was still sad. He cupped her cheek in his palm, an action that he suddenly felt allowed to make considering she would be his wife. Or would she? 

He lifted her face once more to his, compelled to brush a finger against her soft skin. "Don't look so sad, Donna. I am not an ogre." 

"I know that." 

"And I care for you." 

"Do you?" 

"Of course. Do you think I would commit myself for life to a woman I did not care about?" 

"No. I suppose not. It's just that... well, I know you cared about the Marquise very much and..." 

"You know nothing about my feelings regarding the Marquise," he told her sternly. "I never would have married her." 

"But you...I saw that one night... I heard..." 

He smiled as he watched her blush furiously. "Upset your delicate sensibilities, did I?" 

"You didn't love her?" Donna asked somewhat confused. 

"No." 

"But you... kissed her." 

"I kissed you." 

"That was different. That was an accident. On your part anyway." 

"Not really," he murmured. "And I think we both know that is the truth. But aside from that, surely you are old enough to understand that... physical intimacy... and love do not always go hand and hand." 

"But shouldn't they?" 

That stumped him. "Yes, I suppose they should. Are you afraid, Donna? Is it that you don't wish to..." 

"No," she responded hurriedly. Then she realized too hurriedly because she heard him chuckling. "Now it is you who are laughing at my expense." 

"Perhaps. Do you remember what it felt like... our kiss?" 

"Yes," she whispered as she felt his other hand lift to cup her other cheek so that her face was framed in between his hands. 

"Weren't you the least bit curious where that one kiss might lead us?" 

"I wasn't curious with Benedict," she said avoiding the question while she tried to avoid his eyes. 

"Your evil cousin?" 

"He wasn't evil. He simply ... was." 

"And you didn't like it when he kissed you. You've admitted as much to me. But what you haven't admitted was if you liked it when I kissed you." 

The air left her lungs. There was no way she could answer such a question. Not when he was looking at her in such a way. Fortunately, she was spared from having to provide an answer when his mouth descended on hers. 

It was like it had been before, but so much sweeter because she had almost lost him. She might never have felt this way before. She might never have known what it was like to be held in such a manner. She might never have again felt the pressure of a man's lips, or felt the sensation of his tongue sliding against hers, because had she lost him she never could have been this way with any other man. 

Only Joshua who teased her. Only Joshua whom she teased in return. Only Joshua. She'd never experienced this level of trust with any other man of her acquaintance before. She couldn't imagine doing so again. 

Lifting herself off the arm of the heavy chair she found herself wrapping her arms completely around his waist. This, too, was a new sensation. She felt him pressed against her body from chest to hip to thigh. It was frightening and thrilling all at the same time. 

"Donna..." he breathed into her mouth. He pulled her closer no longer afraid to hide his response to her and more importantly - he couldn't help himself. She was sweet and warm. The sound of her sighs mixed with the sound of the patter of rain. He wanted to take her to bed, hold her underneath him and lose himself in her. 

Those kinds of thoughts though were dangerous. She was still an innocent and she wasn't his wife yet. Gently, he disengaged himself and pushed on her shoulders. 

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered between tight teeth. 

"But, if I am to be your wife, isn't this exactly what we will be doing?" 

His eyes met hers and he ran a hand down her smooth blond hair. She had forgotten her nightcap and he was glad. 

"Are you sure?" 

No, she wasn't sure. She was afraid and excited and nervous all at the same time. She had no idea if this was the right thing to do. But she wasn't going to refuse his offer. As much as she wished he returned her feelings, she wouldn't sacrifice being with him. 

Her father once told her that love could grow over time. Maybe one day he would come to love her. It would have to be enough. 

"I'm sure." 

Later he sighed, and rested his head against her breasts. 

She stroked his hair and instantly began to croon to him, soothing him as a mother would her babe. The storm outside was moving off and the peace that invaded the room was palpable. 

"Is that how it's supposed to be?" she asked him. 

"That's how it is between us," he explained to her breast because he had no willpower to lift his head. 

"I ... I ... liked it. I like us." 

"I like us too." 


	10. Patriots 10

**Patriots**

**by:** Dee 

**Category/Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Rating:** MATURE  
**Disclaimer:** This is a tough one. Are they really his if I have them living in another time? I guess. But he's so not worthy.  
**Author's Notes:** See Chapter 1

Epilogue 

They were married in a tiny church in Nashua with their friends and an exuberant Amanda in attendance. Joshua gave his wife a lace shawl for the day and it since became her favorite item of clothing. 

The ceremony was simple and when it was over the groom kissed his wife's lips so sweetly that for the first time Donna began to believe that perhaps his feelings for her were as strong as hers for him. 

The date was April 12. 

A few days after that the British attacked Lexington and Concord. The war had officially begun. 

As Joshua promised he would, he left the very next day to join in the struggle for independence. So did Tobias and so did Samuel. 

Josiah Bartlett made the journey to Philadelphia where he became a member of the second Continental Congress. He would sign the greatest document of all time - the one that declared the nation free and independent. 

But it was not an easy time for the nation. And it was an especially difficult time for Donna. Her only comforts were Amanda, Joshua's letters, and the thrill of having a baby grow inside her. 

When her time came Claudia Jean acted as midwife and after eighteen hours of painful labor little Samuel Alexander was born, named for their friend who had fallen at the battle of Albany. 

The news of Samuel's death had devastated them all. 

Joshua wrote of horrible conditions and terrible cold, but worst of all he wrote of despair. Donna tried to write of hope. She wrote to him of his son and daughter to keep his soul warm. She wrote to him about how she missed him - mostly at night - to keep his heart warm. 

When Joshua's first tour of duty was up he came home to see his son for the first time. He had just taken his first steps. Quickly after that he left to regain his commission, was promoted to captain, and continued to fight in the struggle for that in which he believed most dearly. 

They continued to write. As often as two or three letters a day. 

He wrote of feelings so strong that sometimes they overwhelmed him. Feelings of loss and sadness. He missed his wife and his daughter. He wanted to hear his son laugh again. 

Donna wrote of love and loyalty. She wanted him to know that where ever he was she was there with him, inside of him. The force that made his heart beat. 

He wrote of his belief in what he called the greatest struggle of all time. 

She wrote of her belief in him. 

It was a joyous day when General Washington won at Yorktown. 

It was a more joyous day when Joshua reunited with his family. When he saw her face again for the first time in so long he wanted to weep. Instead he took her in his arms, held her close to his heart that continued to beat and whispered that he loved her. That he would always love her. 

There was talk of a new government and more talk of Joshua, the truest patriot that ever was, becoming a congressman from the state of New Hampshire. But the talk mattered little to him. He had his farm, his two children, another on the way, and Donna. 

He had Donna. And that made all the difference. 

The rest would be as they say... history. 

THE END. 


End file.
